


Comfort and Joy

by mithrel



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Blanket Permission, M/M, Podfic Welcome
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-12-13
Updated: 2009-12-13
Packaged: 2017-10-27 11:27:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,726
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/295340
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mithrel/pseuds/mithrel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prompt was: “Dean and Sam living together while Sam goes to class and Dean works. They try to get used to the stresses of a typical Christmas. Dean's work has Christmas music piped in all day.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Comfort and Joy

The Apocalypse was over, and Sam had decided he’d had enough. Dean didn’t blame him; after all Sam had never wanted this life. And after having been to Hell and helping to start the Apocalypse, Dean didn’t really see the attraction in hunting anymore either.

So they’d decided to take a break, and the break had become semi-permanent. They were renting a house in Michigan, with Dean working at a local garage while Sam took classes at UM Law. He’d been able to get scholarships, since he’d done well at Stanford, and he seemed happy.

They talked to Bobby occasionally. Cas had said he’d be in touch but they hadn’t seen him since the final battle, and Dean was glad. Not that he wouldn’t like to see Cas again, but angels weren’t exactly normal, and he didn’t want to drag up all the memories Cas was associated with.

Dean enjoyed working at the garage. Sure, most of the cars that came in were hybrid-fusion-crossover-minivans, but occasionally someone would bring in a Mustang or a Firebird.

The guys who worked there were alright, and had no notion of what was out there, but that was fine. Dean was even sort-of-friends with some of them.

Now it was almost Christmas; Sam would be done with his classes soon, which meant he was freaking out about finals, and Dean had decided they were going to have a real Christmas for once.

“We need to get a tree,” he said.

Sam glanced up from the law book he was reading with a look of annoyance. “A what?”

“A Christmas tree, dude!”

Sam laughed softly. “We don/t have any ornaments.”

“So we get those, too,” Dean shrugged. “C’mon, Sammy, we’ve never had a real Christmas.”

Sam’s expression softened, and he nodded. “OK,” he said, putting the book aside.

They put on their coats and headed out. There was a light dusting of snow on the ground, but not enough to make driving difficult. They went to the hardware store and bought a tarp and something to put the tree in, then drove around until they found a Christmas tree lot.

They wandered around for awhile, looking at trees and arguing over which to get.

“What about this one?” Sam suggested.

“Dude, it’s _white!_ ” Dean protested. “I don’t want a tree covered in spray paint! What about that one?”

Sam frowned. “There’s no needles all on one side.”

They went through what seemed like the entire lot without finding anything. Sam refused to get any of the trees Dean liked, and Dean found fault with every one Sam picked.

Finally, in a corner of the lot, they found one more tree. “What about this one?” Dean asked, without much hope.

Sam considered it carefully. “Yeah, OK.” Dean went off to find the owner of the lot before Sam changed his mind. They strapped the tree to the Impala’s roof and brought it home.

Dean leaned the tree against the wall while Sam spread the tarp and filled the pot with water. Dean set the tree up and they looked at it for awhile.

“It’ll be nice to have an actual Christmas for once,” Sam said softly, standing so his shoulder brushed Dean’s.

“Yeah,” Dean said, reaching out and lacing his fingers loosely in Sam’s. Sam had tried, the year he went to Hell, and Dean had appreciated it, especially since he knew Sam hated the types of Christmases they’d had. It had still been their type of Christmas, though, the dysfunctional, we’re-freaks-and-we-know-it, there-are-more-important-things-than- holidays type of Christmas. Plus the pagan gods who tried to kill them, which kinda put a damper on any Christmas spirit they might have had.

“We need ornaments,” Sam pointed out.

“So we’ll get those next,” Dean said.

They decided to get some lunch before anything else, and since they hadn’t gone grocery shopping in awhile they headed out again. In the passenger seat of the Impala, Sam turned on the radio, and “Silent Night” drifted out. Dean smirked.

“What’s so funny?” Sam asked.

“Oh, I’m just remembering that drunk Santa we burst in on a few years back.”

Sam groaned. “I don’t remember anything like that. I’ve blocked it out.”

Dean laughed. “Well, this year we can go all out and do everything we were supposed to do before.”

Sam nodded. “Yeah.”

They pulled up at a restaurant and headed inside. There were a few people inside, but since it was almost three most people had already eaten and they didn’t have to wait long

Dean perused the menu with a practiced eye, and decided on chicken-fried steak and a Coke. He set the lunch menu aside and picked up the dessert menu to see what they had.

Sam rolled his eyes, until Dean said slyly, “They have gingerbread,” and then he scowled.

“Dude, not fair.”

Dean didn’t know when Sam had first had gingerbread, but his brother’s weakness for it was almost as great as Dean’s for pie.

The waitress bounced over, and in deference to the fact that Sam was a jealous, possessive, whiny bitch, Dean didn’t leer at her. “Hi, I’m Cyndee, I’ll be your server today. Can I get you started with some drinks?”

“A Coke,” Dean said immediately.

She looked at Sam. “And for you?”

“I’ll have a Coke, too, please,” Sam said.

“Two Cokes. Should be out in a few minutes.”

Once she’d left, Sam asked, “So, besides ornaments, what do we need?”

Dean thought. “Lights, for the tree and the house. Stockings, maybe. And presents, of course.”

Sam nodded. “Something to eat on Christmas.”

“You’re cooking, dude,” Dean said immediately. He could cook if he had to, but he much preferred eating the food.

Sam made a face. “Fine, but you’re helping.”

Dean shrugged. “OK. We need to hit the grocery store anyway. Anything else?”

“Wrapping paper,” Sam said. “Unless you want to use newspaper.”

“Nah.”

“I think that’s it. If we think of anything else we can get it later.”

“OK. And Sammy, I don’t care if you have finals, you’re not spending all your time studying.”

“But–”

Dean held up a finger, and Sam stopped, scowling. But Dean saw the smile he tried to hide, and knew he wouldn’t mind. Sam was the type who’d spend all his time in books and never interact with people. Good thing Dean didn’t think much of books and was always out doing something. Sam might moan when Dean dragged him along, but Dean knew better than to think he meant it. Except for that time Dean took him to a gay bar. Sam had made him get separate rooms for them for a week.

The waitress came back with their drinks, and asked, “Are you ready to order?”

Dean nodded. “Chicken-fried steak.”

Sam shuddered. “Dude, you’re going to give yourself a heart attack!”

“Life’s short,” Dean shot back.

“What side?” the waitress prompted, as if they hadn’t said anything.

“Corn on the cob,” Dean said, with a glance at his brother. _See? It’s healthy._

“And for you?” she asked Sam.

“Club sandwich,” he said.

“What type of bread?”

“Wheat,” Sam told her, giving Dean a look of his own.

“Fries or onion rings?”

“Onion rings,” Sam said, thereby negating any benefit from the wheat bread.

“OK, one chicken-fried steak with corn on the cob, one club on wheat with a side of onion rings. Should be out in a few minutes.”

Dean tore the end off his straw wrapper and blew it across the table at Sam.

“What are you, five?” Sam laughed.

Dean shrugged, and Sam retaliated with his own straw wrapper. It was good to not have anything to worry about and be able to goof around.

Christmas music was playing, which made sense, but you couldn’t get away from it. Even the garage had Christmas music piped in. At first Dean had been annoyed, and put earplugs in. Then he’d given up and just put up with it. A few days ago he’d found himself humming “God Rest Ye Merry Gentlemen” on the way back from work.

He didn’t mind Christmas music, and it was growing on him, despite the fact that he’d met angels, and they weren’t like in the songs. Sam, of course, turned the radio on at every opportunity.

Now “The Little Drummer Boy” was playing, which was one of Dean’s favorites, despite the fact that it got stuck in his head every time he heard it.

Their food came and they didn’t talk much after that.

Dean pushed his plate away and said, “So, dessert?”

Sam shrugged. “Why not?”

“And we’re going to go get ornaments for the tree after this?” Dean asked.

“Yeah. And then I need to study.”

Dean rolled his eyes.

“I have an exam Wednesday,” Sam protested.

“Fine, whatever.”

The waitress came back over and asked, “Can I interest you in dessert?”

“I’d like the gingerbread, please,” Sam said.

 _Ha._ “Me too,” Dean said.

The waitress nodded and left.

“This is weird,” Sam said suddenly.

Dean looked at him. “What is?”

“I mean, we’ve been living here for more than four months and nothing’s happened.”

Dean nodded. “Yeah. Of course now you jinxed it.”

Sam laughed nervously. “Aren’t you sick of this yet? I mean I was always the one who wanted a normal life, not you.”

“Sammy, I’ve been dead twice and nearly dead once, been to Hell, tried to stop the Apocalypse, found out I _started_ the Apocalypse and dodged an archangel who wanted to use me as a meat suit. Dealing with soccer moms freaking out because their minivan isn’t ready in time for the swim meet is a vacation.”

Sam relaxed and nodded. “Guess so. I just didn’t want you to only be doing this because of me.”

Dean snorted. “I’m not that masochistic.”

Sam glared at him, then laughed softly.

Dean studied his brother. Sam did look happier, more relaxed. Dean didn’t know whether he’d get sick of living like this and want to go back to hunting, didn’t know if Sam would, but right now they needed to recover, not think about anything but ordinary things. Of course it was hard to be normal when you were in a relationship with your brother, but he didn’t particularly care.

That had happened not long after he got Sam back. He’d realized that he only had a year to live, and had decided to be selfish. He didn’t think what it would do to Sam when he did die, and Sam was too glad to be alive, and too glad Dean felt the same way he did to care.

When he got back from Hell, Dean couldn’t bear to have Sam touch him. He knew Sam had been hurt by that, even though he understood. Of course, Sam had been cozying up to Ruby at the time, which Dean still didn’t want to think about, and then Sam had released Lucifer and Dean had thought about leaving. Not seriously, just for a second.

They’d repaired their relationship after he’d been to the future, but they hadn’t really done anything until after they’d killed Lucifer. They were still feeling each other out, trying to get back what they’d had before.

“Hey,” Sam said suddenly.

“Huh?”

Sam smiled at him. “You were a million miles away.”

Dean smiled back. “Sorry. Just thinking.”

“About what?”

Dean shook his head. “How glad I am that it’s all over, that we both survived.”

Sam nodded. “Me too.”

The waitress brought their gingerbread then, leaving the check, and Dean waited to watch Sam eat his.

His brother took a slow bite, his eyes falling shut. He moaned slightly.

“Dude, not in public,” Dean smirked, and Sam flipped him off, blushing.

It really was good gingerbread though, Dean admitted when he tried it. They finished up the gingerbread and Dean picked up the check. He had an actual credit card now, but he still paid cash most of the time.

He dug out his wallet and paid for the meal, giving a larger tip than he usually did, since it was Christmas.

“So, ornaments?” Sam asked, and Dean nodded.

***

They ended up in a Hallmark store, and Dean could feel his balls shrinking, but Sam was in his element. Dean let him pick out most of the ornaments, baubles and bells and he didn’t even know what, although Dean picked out a couple of Star Trek ornaments, some lights for the tree and the house and a star for the top.

It ended up costing over a hundred dollars, and Dean winced, but he didn’t put anything back. They carried the bags back to the car and headed home.

“We gonna decorate it now?” Dean asked.

Sam shook his head. “I need to study, Dean.”

Dean sighed. “Fine.”

He ended up leaving Sam at home and going to the hardware store for an extension cord and light clips, then coming home and putting lights on the house.

He’d never done it before, and he ended up hitting his thumb with the hammer more often than not. “ _Dammit!_ ” he swore, climbing down the ladder _again_ to retrieve the hammer he’d dropped.

By the time he’d finished it was dark, and he went inside to plug the lights in. Sam was still immersed in his book, and Dean said, “Hey, come outside.”

“’M busy, Dean,” Sam mumbled.

“It’ll only take a minute, come on!”

Sam sighed, but let Dean drag him outside. When he saw the lights he said, “Oh.”

“Worth taking a break from your studying?” Dean asked, and Sam nodded.

“It looks good.”

“Yeah, well for the amount of times I hit my thumb with the hammer it better look fucking fantastic!”

“It does,” Sam agreed.

They stood looking at the lights for a moment before Sam shivered.

“Let’s go back inside,” he said, and Dean nodded.

***

The next day Sam was still studying, so Dean went out looking for something for Sam. He drove around for awhile, and ended up at a Borders in Arborland Center. It sucked that all the Virgin stores had closed, he knew he’d be able to find something there.

He tried to park near the store, but a Prius took the space he was aiming for. He momentarily considered bulldozing over the top of it, but didn’t want to risk scratching his baby. So he ended up parking three blocks away and walking over.

There were people everywhere. He noted that the Noodles and Co. nearby was doing a brisk business.

Once inside the Borders he made his way to the DVD section. It took him about three times as long as it should have, since the store was pushing its maximum occupancy limit. When “Santa Baby” started playing Dean gritted his teeth, regretting that he’d left his guns at home so he couldn’t shoot up the speaker.

He wandered around, looking at the DVDs. Seasons of _The X-Files_? (But they were trying to get away from creepy shit). A box set of all six _Star Wars_ movies? (The prequels were crap). He looked through nearly the whole selection before he found a box set of all four _Indiana Jones_ movies.

“Yachtzee,” he grinned, and went to check out.

Three hours later, he left the store and headed back to their house.

***

On Monday Sam had class, and Dean headed to the garage. On the way he stopped and picked up a few generic Christmas cards.

They had had a lot of business a couple weeks ago, people wanting to make sure their cars could survive a trip to Grandma’s, or wherever, but now it was slow. They’d probably have no business at all this week, and next week they were closed.

Dean waited around for an hour, and when no one showed up, he took the Impala in and started working on her shocks.

He was buried under the car when Dave tapped his foot.

“Hey, Winchester.”

He scooted out. “Yeah?”

“Merry Christmas.”

Dean grinned. “Thanks man.”

“You want some help?”

Dean wouldn’t let anyone except Sam touch his baby, and Dave knew that, but he said, “Sure. Hand me that vise-grip.”

After he finished putting the Impala back together and wiped his hands Dean took out the cards and filled them out.

Dave was leaning against the wall, humming along to “O Holy Night.” “Merry Christmas, man,” Dean said, handing him the card.

Dave grinned. “Thanks, Winchester.”

He gave cards to Mark, Leon and Todd too, then since no one else had come in, went to his desk to tick off what he needed to do for Christmas.

They had a tree and ornaments, but they still needed to decorate it. He’d put up the lights on the house. He had a present for Sam, but he needed to wrap it. For that matter, he needed to buy wrapping paper. What else? Stockings, why not, and some stuff to put in them. He’d need to go to the store sometime soon.

He assumed Sam was taking care of Christmas dinner.

***

That week Sam was stressing about his exams. “Dude, you’ll be fine. You know this stuff.”

“Yeah, sure,” Sam said, then started muttering about torts and _a fortiori_ and God only knew what else. Dean left him to it and went to the store for wrapping paper.

While he was there he bought two stockings and some stuff for Sam. A razor, Darth Vader Pez dispenser, Sudoku book, lottery tickets and condoms, mostly as a joke. He also bought firewood, not that they needed it with the heater, since it’d be nice to have a fire that wasn’t burning corpses for once.

When he got back Sam was still buried in his books. Dean smacked the back of his head. “Hey! Take a break.”

“Ow!” Sam complained, rubbing his head. He straightened up. “Ow!” he repeated as his back protested.

“Dude, how long have you been sitting there?” Dean demanded.

“What time is it?”

Dean rolled his eyes. “You keep this up you’re going to turn into Quasimodo. When did you last eat something?”

“Uh…”

“OK, that’s it. I’m making lunch.”

He rummaged around in the fridge. They didn’t have much, but he dug out sliced cheese, butter, bread and pickles.

He buttered a frying pan and slathered more butter on the bread. He might not cook often, but he could make a mean grilled cheese.

He put the cheese on the bread and slapped the slices together. He grilled one side of it, then flipped it with a spatula.

When it was done he set it on a plate and cut it (diagonally, people who cut their grilled cheese straight across were committing sacrilege) put a pickle on the plate and plopped it in front of Sam. “Eat.”

He went back to make another sandwich for himself, then sat down to eat.

“Thanks, Dean,” Sam said.

“Yeah, well, I know you like my grilled cheese,” Dean said, even though he knew Sam wasn’t talking about that. But Sam was his brother and he’d make sure he took care of himself, even against something as nonthreatening as finals.

***

Sam’s exams finished on Friday, and he came home and collapsed on the couch. “Kill me now.”

“But then you won’t get anything for Christmas,” Dean pointed out.

Sam grinned weakly. “True. I’m gonna veg here for awhile.”

Dean nodded. “OK.”

He went to their room and dug Sam’s present out of the top of the closet, then snuck to the dining room to wrap it.

He hadn’t really wrapped presents before, so he spent a long time measuring out the wrapping paper before cutting it, and folding the paper before he taped it. When he slapped a bow on it he thought it looked pretty good. He set it under the still-bare tree.

***

Sam spent the next week dicking around on the computer. He went to the grocery store and came back with a ton of food, including a ham and various ingredients for glaze that he told Dean sternly were “off-limits.” Dean scowled at him.

Dean didn’t see him go out Christmas shopping, but one day the doorbell rang, and a half hour later there was another clumsily-wrapped present under the tree.

The week of Christmas the garage was closed, and Dean decided they needed to decorate the tree. They had Music Choice, so he turned the TV to Christmas music.

The first thing Dean did was dig out the lights, which had somehow gotten tangled since he bought them. “Dammit.”

Swearing under his breath, he untangled the lights, and strung them around the tree, with Sam complaining that he was doing it wrong.

Then they put the ornaments on, one by one, covering the whole tree.

“We Need A Little Christmas” came on the TV.

“Oh, dude, awesome!” Dean said, tugging Sam to his feet.

“What are you doing?” Sam asked.

“Dancing,” Dean said, taking his hand.

“You’re insane!” Sam laughed, but he let Dean drag him to the middle of the room.

“Climb down the chimney, put up the brightest string of lights I've ever seen. Slice up the fruitcake; it's time we hung some tinsel on that evergreen bough. For I've grown a little leaner, grown a little colder, grown a little sadder, grown a little older,” Dean sang.

“How come you get to lead?” Sam complained, grinning.

“The guy always leads, Sammy.”

“Jerk.”

“Bitch,” Dean said, twirling him, then managing to dip him even though Sam was taller.

When the song ended, they collapsed on the couch, laughing and panting. “What was that?” Sam asked.

Dean shrugged. “Dunno. Just felt like it.”

Sam shook his head, then got up to finish decorating the tree.

***

The next day Sam cooked the ham. Dean wandered into the kitchen as Sam was mixing up the ingredients for the glaze. He looked at the schnapps bottle and snorted. Sam was going to have to finish the rest of it, since no way in hell would he drink something that girly.

Sam mixed the schnapps, peach preserves, mustard and cinnamon together. Dean took a spoon and tried it.

“Dude, it’s glaze, you don’t eat it.”

Dean snorted and smeared the spoon on Sam’s cheek. “Dude, gross!” Sam said, looking for a napkin.

Dean stepped closer, grabbed Sam’s hand and licked the glaze off his cheek. Sam’s breath caught. “Dean…”

Dean grinned and kissed him, pushing his tongue into Sam’s mouth. Sam groaned and pushed at his overshirt until it slipped off, then ran his hands under Dean’s T-shirt.

Dean’s hands were just as busy, ignoring Sam’s shirts in favor of unbuttoning his jeans. He dropped to his knees…

And the timer buzzed.

“Son of a bitch!” he complained.

Sam pushed him away, his breath ragged. “The ham will burn.”

“You’re making me choose between food and sex?” Dean complained. “So not fair!”

But Sam moved away, washed his hands and took the ham out, scoring it and spooning the glaze over it. Dean’s eyes watched the glaze covering the ham, imagining it covering something else.

Sam put the ham back in the oven. “Now,” he said, grinning wickedly. “We have a half hour before we have to take it out again. Let’s make the most of it.”

Dean grinned back. “You’re on!”

***

On Christmas Eve, Dean and Sam hung stockings and filled each other’s, trying not to look. Then they went to bed.

When the alarm went off at six o’clock, Dean groaned. Since the clock was on Sam’s side of the bed, he squashed him turning it off.

“Dude,” Sam complained.

“ _Six o’clock?_ ” Dean retorted. “What is _wrong_ with you?”

“So you don’t want to open your presents?” Sam asked him.

“Well, since I’m up,” Dean grumbled, and Sam hid a smile.

When they got to the living room, Dean flicked the tree on. They looked in their stockings first. Sam grinned at the Sudoku, and grimaced at the condoms. Sam had gotten him candy bars, a mini MagLite and a basic tool kit. “Thanks, Sammy.”

“Yeah, you too.”

Sam got up and picked up their presents, handing Dean his.

“Open yours first,” Dean told him.

Sam tried to open it, but Dean had taped it so tightly he couldn’t. Dean rolled his eyes and handed him a box-cutter to get it started.

Sam pulled the wrapping off and grinned when he saw the DVDs. “Awesome! We can have a movie marathon!”

Dean waited for him to put the movies aside before tearing into his own present. When he saw what it was, his mouth fell open.

“Dude, where did you even _get_ this?” he demanded, lifting the copy of [ When Giants Walked The Earth: A Biography of Led Zeppelin](http://www.amazon.com/When-Giants-Walked-Earth-Biography/dp/0312590008/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&s=books&qid=1260722427&sr=8-1) free of the remnants of the wrapping paper.

Sam shrugged. “Amazon.”

Dean scowled briefly at the thought that Sam hadn’t had to fight through Christmas shoppers, but then he opened the book and forgot everything.

He heard Sam chuckle and get up, but he didn’t pay attention.

A few minutes later Sam poked him. “Hey.”

He looked up to see Sam holding out a bowl of Lucky Charms. He set the book out of harm’s way and took it.

Sam opened the DVDs and took out _Raiders of the Lost Ark_. When he turned on the TV, though, they heard “Downtown Hohman was prepared for its yearly bacchanalia of peace on earth and goodwill to men.”

“Man, _A Christmas Story!_ I haven’t seen that since we were kids!” Dean said, and Sam nodded.

So they settled down to watch Darren McGavin swear at the furnace and Ralphie wish for a Red Ryder BB Gun.

Sam shuddered. “Scut Farkus. That kid was evil.”

“He had yellow eyes. He was a demon,” Dean retorted.

Sam smirked when Flick got his tongue stuck to the flagpole. “You remember when we spent three months in Grand Forks during the winter and you tried to get Lou Petersen to try that?”

Dean chuckled. “Yeah. Too bad he’d seen this movie, too.”

Dean winced when Ralphie helped his dad change the tire and the nuts went everywhere. “Dad told me if I ever did that he’d make sure I couldn’t sit down for a week.”

They watched the rest of the movie, occasionally making comments, and when it was over Sam shook his head ruefully. “Maybe I should have made duck instead of ham.”

Dean laughed. “Nah. Although I have a machete I could use to chop the head off. So you wanna watch the movie now?”

Sam nodded and put the DVD in.

They watched the first two movies, then took a break for lunch.

They spent the rest of the day finishing the marathon, then had dinner.

Sam had made instant mashed potatoes to go along with the ham, and Dean dug out a can of peas and heated them and the rest of the food in the microwave while Sam set the table.

He took a bite of the ham and closed his eyes, savoring it.

Sam grinned at him. “Good?”

Dean laughed. “Yeah.”

After that they didn’t say much, concentrating on eating.

They put away the leftovers (since even Dean wasn’t able to finish a ham meant for eight) and went back out to the dining room.

Dean started a fire in the fireplace and Sam put on Music Choice.

They sat staring at the flames as “White Christmas” finished and Mariah Carey came on.

“ _I don't want a lot for Christmas. There is just one thing I need. I don't care about the presents underneath the Christmas tree…_ ”

Normally Dean would have turned off something so schmaltzy, but he’d had a good day, he was full of good food, and “All I Want for Christmas is You” seemed somehow appropriate.

“Merry Christmas, Sammy,” he murmured.

Sam smiled softly at him. “Merry Christmas, Dean.”

  
**  
Recipe   
**

**Ingredients:**  
• 1 fully cooked ham, about 7 to 9 pounds  
• 1 jar (10 ounces) peach preserves  
• 1 1/2 tablespoons Creole mustard, spicy mustard, or Dijon  
• 2 tablespoons peach liqueur (Schnapps)  
• 2 tablespoons lemon juice  
• dash cinnamon

 **Preparation:**  
Bake ham as directed on the wrapping, about 18 minutes per pound. Combine remaining ingredients, stirring until smooth. Score the baked ham in a diamond pattern; spoon glaze over, spreading to coat completely. Bake for about 30 minutes longer.  
Serves 8.

From [here.](http://southernfood.about.com/od/bakedhamrecipes/r/bl60414e.htm)


End file.
